Priorities
by alanwolfmoon
Summary: Cuddy is in a car accident before she officially adopts Rachel. Everybody takes care of her, but she isn't initially able to remind them about Rachel. House doesn't need reminding. Story follows Cuddy's recovery, and their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

I apologize for the wonky formatting when I posted the initially. It apparently decided to lose all the punctuation in the entire story when I uploaded it. It should be fixed now.

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When Cuddy had the accident, everyone tried to help.

When Cuddy had the accident, everyone sent flowers.

When Cuddy had the accident, people came and sat by her for hours.

When Cuddy had the accident, she cried because she couldn't tell them what she really needed.

When Cuddy had the accident, she had to be sedated because she was so worked up over what she needed to tell them.

When Cuddy had the accident, she woke up from sedation and saw him standing by the nurses' station, a tiny head resting on his shoulder, as he signed something on a clipboard a nurse held out to him.

When Cuddy had the accident, she watched him hang his cane on the counter, as the baby girl started to fuss.

When Cuddy had the accident, she saw Rachel looking at her but couldn't speak to tell him why she was fussing.

When Cuddy had the accident, she saw him hold her up in front of him, and make buzzing sounds into her neck, which made her giggle and squirm.

When Cuddy had the accident, she saw the nurse watch with an amused smile, as he calmed Cuddy's baby girl.

When Cuddy had the accident, she woke, and found him sitting in the chair beside her bed, Rachel in his arms, holding a bottle in her mouth, and watching the baby girl with a fond look in his blue eyes.

When Cuddy spoke for the first time since the accident, it was his name that she said.

He looked up at her, relief flooding his expression.

She smiled at him, weakly, and he stood, and raised the head of her bed, and helped her hold Rachel in her arms, though she could barely move them.

Rachel giggled up at both of them, waving her hands in the air as though grasping for their faces.

House's arm, the one that wasn't around Cuddy's, holding them under the baby, moved, and he held the bottle while Rachel sucked it.

Cuddy looked at House, green eyes holding confusion and gratitude and worry for what was going to happen to Rachel now.

She had been going to file the adoption papers the day before the accident.

And now this had happened.

He looked at her, and shook his head, "don't worry. She'll be taken care of until you recover."

She shook her head, and protested that she hadn't finalized the adoption, that Rachel would get taken away, that some other family would adopt her, but the words wouldn't come.

House didn't need to hear her say them, though. He knew what was going through her mind.

"I got registered as a foster parent last month. I already arranged for her to stay with me until you're better enough to sign those papers."

She stared up at him, her eyes filling with tears.

He shrugged a bit, then looked down as Rachel finished the bottle.

"I'm better at the big gestures than I am at telling whether I should grab your boob."

She nodded, biting her lip.

He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding her arms in place so she was holding Rachel.

She frowned, and managed to get a word out, "Tritter."

He shook his head, "I wasn't convicted. They spoke to the judge, who told them she had full confidence that I was a cranky asshole that got on Tritter's bad side and had a problem with the drugs that are necessary for valid medical reasons. I haven't been convicted of anything other than parking illegally since I was twenty-five, and I've never been accused of any violent or sexual offences except when my high school girlfriend's dad didn't like me so he called the cops when I came over on my eighteenth birthday—a month before she turned eighteen. He wanted them to slap me with statutory rape, but the judge wouldn't let it even go to court."

Cuddy snorted.

"Char…ec…."

"Character references? Cameron and Wilson. Home inspector loved the piano."

Cuddy smiled.

Her arms hurt.

House gently took Rachel, and laid her over his shoulder.

She snuggled her face into his neck.

"So don't worry about her."

She still looked worried.

He sighed, and shook his head.

"Cuddy, listen to me. I am a cold, uncaring, misanthropic bastard that doesn't see any value in the things that most people hold sacred. But there is an exception to that, Cuddy. I would never do anything, or let anything bad happen to a child. Especially your child."

She looked at him.

"My."

He nodded, "she's a lot better off with you than she would have been with her biological mom."

Cuddy nodded.

She looked exhausted.

House reached over with his free hand, curling it awkwardly around hers.

"Get some rest, Cuddy. Let your body heal. And then get back to work."

*

Cuddy bit her lip, as her doctor informed her that she could be discharged.

Wilson was there, smiling, and stood as she nodded.

"I can give you a ride home?"

She shook her head, "House already offered."

Wilson blinked.

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

It would take some work to get her walking and using her arms again, and she was still incredibly weak, but all the communication problems she had been having had faded with the swelling in her brain.

House limped in, a large leather bag slung over one shoulder, and Rachel in a sling in front of him. The sling was black with silver flames.

Wilson turned around, and frowned.

"Why do you have your doctor bag?"

"Because I may be carrying a baby around, but you are still not going to catch me dead with one of those pastel, flowery diaper bags."

Wilson restrained a laugh at the image.

House perched himself on the edge of the bed, and gently extracted the sleeping Rachel from the sling.

Cuddy still didn't know how she managed to sleep in the sling with House's lopsided gait, but she did—better than she slept in her crib.

House helped Cuddy get Rachel settled in her arms, and pushed the sling out of the way as he dug in the leather bag, eventually pulling out a red rubber ring.

"Is she teething?"

House nodded, "nothing's close to erupting yet, but yeah."

Cuddy smiled, as House waved the ring over the waking baby's face.

She reached for it, giggling.

House let her take it, and start chewing on it.

He smirked a bit, watching her.

Wilson stared at this person who had replaced his misanthropic best friend.

The doctor came back in with the discharge papers, and smiled a little, as he set them on the table next to the bed.

"Good luck. I put in a referral to a good physical therapist."

Cuddy nodded, and he left.

House picked up the papers, as Cuddy smiled down at Rachel, and Wilson came over, tickling the baby girl.

House scowled down at the referral.

Cuddy happened to look at him, and blinked. Five seconds ago, he had been cheerful and enjoying watching Rachel.

Now he looked upset.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "nothing's wrong."

He handed the papers to Wilson, "I'm assuming you offered her a ride?"

Wilson nodded.

"Better give it to her. I… have something I forgot I had to do."

Cuddy nodded, "okay. Can you take her with you?"

House nodded, taking Rachel, and gently easing her back into the sling, pulling the baby bag over his shoulder again.

Then he limped out.

Wilson and Cuddy blinked after him, utterly confused.

He limped back in, "you're taking her to my apartment. Cuddy's doorways aren't wide enough for a wheelchair, I got the lift kind of back in order, but it kept stopping halfway, so I dug the ramp out of the basement where Pearl put it."

Wilson nodded, and opened his mouth to say something, but House was already gone.

*

Dr. Carla Roland looked up, as the door to her office banged open.

She glared.

"House," she said, flatly.

"You just got referred a patient."

"…yes… that happens, I am a doctor. Contrary to what you seem to think…."

"Lisa Cuddy. Dean of medicine at PPTH."

"What? You're angry that someone at a different hospital got your dean as a patient? Or is it just the fact it's me you have a problem with?"

"Just you," said House, sharply.

She sighed, putting down her pen.

"What happened to your leg?"

House scrunched up his face, "boy, you're an even worse physical therapist than I remembered. You never even knew what you were treating me for?"

"You're using that cane like a crutch. Where's the knee brace? When's the last time you did any exercises with the leg? There wasn't *that* much muscle removed, House. You should be able to walk better than that."

"Knee brace itched, exercises hurt, and you stopped showing up for the sessions."

"I had a baby. I referred you to Stevenson."

"And two days later, Stacy left. Kind of hard to get halfway across the state five days a week when you can't drive and your only reliable ride moved to short hills. I went once. Guy wanted me to "visualize the healing"."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Wear the brace, House. At least do that. You can barely stand up."

He sighed, looking at her for a long time, then slowly lowered himself down onto the couch.

"She can barely move her arms and legs."

"House, I'm a physical therapist. All my patients have some problem with movement."

"Shut up for two minutes. Okay?"

She sighed, and nodded.

"Cuddy—."

House sighed, as Rachel, in the carrier on the floor, started crying.

Carla looked down, blinking.

Then up at House.

"That's something I hadn't heard about before…"

House shook his head, picking Rachel up out of the carrier and checking her diaper.

He sighed, looking at Carla.

She shrugged, "House, I've had two kids. You can change a diaper in front of me."

She reached out to take Rachel while he took out a blanket, wipes, baby powder, a biohazard bag he'd taken from the hospital, and a fresh diaper out of his bag, and knelt, painfully—too painfully, observed Carla—to spread out the blanket.

She got up and handed Rachel down to him so he wouldn't have to get up.

He laid her down, as she wailed, and unfastened the diaper, wiping her, drying her, powdering her, and putting the fresh diaper on. She stopped crying.

He put the diaper and the wipes in the biohazard bag, and the bag and everything else back in the leather bag.

He put Rachel back in her carrier, handed her a toy out of the bag, and turned back to Carla.

"Okay… yeah, that's a long story. But… that baby, there? That's your new patient's. Cuddy was going to file the papers for the adoption the day she got into the accident. I'm taking care of this woman's kid, okay? I got registered as a foster parent so that I could take care of the kid, a month before I knew if she was even going to adopt her or not. I… Cuddy's been in control her whole life," he paused, as Rachel dropped the toy, and started to cry.

"She thinks she has to control everything, because if she doesn't, everything will fall apart. She can't be weak, she can't fail. She thinks she's going to need "a bit of PT" but I don't think she understands how hard this is going to be. She doesn't understand that going from having to have me help her hold the baby to back to normalcy is…like what it's going to be like. Your thing, making it all or nothing each session, works for most people, but… you can't break her, okay? You gotta make sure you don't break her. 'cause you came pretty close to breaking me."

Carla sighed, and nodded.

"You want me to change my approach with her?"

He hesitated, "I want you to make it a game. Not a serious one. Still win or lose each session. But not win or lose self confidence. Just the game. It'll work just as well, the woman became dean of medicine at thirty, she's competitive. It just won't break her."

Carla looked at him for a long time.

Then she nodded, finally.

"If you wear the brace, come in for PT at least once a week, and have lunch with me so I can hear about what kind of woman has you carrying around a baby and showing up in my office after a decade… I will try your idea. And if you buy me a frozen yogurt, I might even be a little bit nice to her."

House snorted, "you don't know how to be nice."

She smirked, "good point. But I still want the yogurt."

House smirked a little as well, "deal."

She nodded, "good."

*

"So," said Cuddy, as Wilson helped her swivel onto the couch, "what do you think House saw in my discharge papers that made him run off like that?"

Wilson shrugged, "I dunno, what did they say?"

Cuddy nodded her chin towards the bag of stuff she'd had at the hospital, "they're in there, along with the PT referral."

Wilson went to get them.

He pulled them out, and leafed through them.

"I don't…" the referral fluttered to the floor, and he bent to pick it up.

He stopped, as he read the name.

Then looked at Cuddy.

"Carla Roland…" he said, hesitatingly, "was House's physical therapist after the infarction."

He held up the slip, "you've been referred to her."

Cuddy blinked, "why would my having been referred to his old physical therapist cause House to run out like that?"

"I… don't know. Back then, when I had Bonnie and House had Stacy, we kind of… were more normal friends. Went bowling or whatever, and hung out, but… neither of us were quite as screwed up back then. I didn't know that much about what was going on in his life—certainly not every detail like now. But I think they might have had a thing for each other."

Cuddy looked away, "oh."

*

House limped into the apartment, tiredly, and sank onto the sofa next to Cuddy.

She looked at him.

"How was your day with your old physical therapist?"

He looked at her. She sounded off.

"She wants me to wear a knee brace and she promises not to be hard-ass on you. And she gave me like four boxes of baby clothes."

"You spent a while with her, didn't you?" asked Cuddy. God, it was just like when she had walked up to find him flirting with that blond woman after realizing he'd gotten her the desk installed.

He scrunched up his face, "am I missing something?"

Wilson walked in, "you had a thing for Carla, didn't you?"

House looked at his friend.

Then at Cuddy.

Then he laughed, "uh, no! She's lived with her girlfriend for longer than I've known either of you. Yeah, she's a fun person to talk to, but she's gayer than Chase."

Cuddy blinked, and Wilson choked.

"…oh."


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I think I figured out why the punctuation was missing at first when I posted the last chapter, but I'm not entirely certain, and it looked fine when I checked it right after posting it, so if the formatting's wonky, bear with me, I'll try to fix it.

Other than that, happy Fourth of July! (Or to the rest of the world, happy Saturday!)

* * *

House sat on the table, eyes fixed downward on the blue padded floor.

"House?"

He raised his head.

Carla.

She was looking at him oddly.

"No baby?"

"I can barely carry my own weight after sessions with you, much less another person."

"What's she weigh? Fifteen pounds?"

"Sixteen…" muttered House, "she's a big girl."

"Do I detect a note of pride there, House?" she asked, with a smirk.

He looked away.

She frowned, tilting her head.

"Okay, either you really miss the kid, or you're really not looking forward to this session."

House sighed, "the second."

"You been wearing the brace?"

House nodded.

"It helping?"

House shook his head.

"Fine. Take off your pants. Need to see the damage."

House rolled his eyes, "you've seen it."

"Ten years ago."

House dropped trou.

She blinked, slowly.

"There… wasn't that much degeneration ten years ago."

He refused to look at her.

She gripped his chin, making him meet her eyes.

"How much more pain are you in?"

He shook his himself free of her hand, "none. It's fine. I just haven't been doing any exercises."

She shook her head, "you shouldn't have lost that much muscle mass if you've been able to put as much weight on it as you were ten years ago."

"I'm getting older."

"House!" she said, loudly, "I need you to be straight with me!"

"And I need to not do this *right now*!"

"You're the one that scheduled the session!"

"I mean this whole… intervention… or whatever it is! I can handle this. I have to handle this. I can't stop to deal with this now. Not…now."

She looked at him for a long time.

"Gregory House, you are the most under-recognized reliable, soft-hearted romantic I have ever met."

"I'm not a soft-hearted romantic, and I'm certainly not reliable."

"Yes you are," she said, plainly, "you're ignoring your own pain so you can look after a woman you're in love with and take care of her baby. That's what you're doing, House. No matter what misanthropic spin you've been putting on it in that hairball of a brain of yours."

He refused to look at her, though he snorted at her description.

She sighed, and gripped his arm.

"We are having this session. You are going to tell me if the pain get's too bad. And after this session, you are going to make an appointment with Marian. And I promise I won't tell Wilson or Cuddy or anyone else. Okay?"

Marian was her girlfriend of twenty-five years, a pain specialist, and just as no-nonsense as Carla—though slightly less blunt and maybe a little kinder.

He nodded, still looking firmly away from her face.

"House. Look at me."

He looked at her.

"You are a very sweet man," she said, "and if I weren't gay as rainbows, I would be very jealous of that woman you love. Now put your pants back on. I don't need to see your jewels bouncing around while we work the leg."

*

Twenty minutes later, House was sitting on the floor, left hand clenched into a fist, right hand clenched over his thigh though his jeans, chest heaving, face pale and covered in sweat, entire body trembling.

Carla knelt, taking his pulse.

Too high.

He looked like he was about to be sick.

"House. Hey, look at me. I need you to look at me. House. Look at me."

He opened his eyes, and looked at her, expression completely strung out.

She gripped his left hand.

"Look here. Keep looking at my face. Is this gonna fade? Are you gonna be okay?"

He didn't answer.

"House, I wanna help you, but I need something to work with here. Come on. Just nod yes or no, is this gonna get better?"

No answer.

"House, come on."

He finally opened his mouth, and spoke, voice tight with pain, "I don't know. It's been doing this. Trip over the threshold. Stub toe on a bookcase. Cane skids a little. Bracing picking Rachel up. Just… little, tiny things. Set this off. Hours 'till *rrrng!*… calms down…. But not this… not this bad… not every time…. Not this bad."

"House," said Carla, sharply.

He focused on her again, pupils dilated from the pain.

"I'm gonna get you a sedative, okay? I'll be right back."

He shook his head, his breath coming in fast, almost whimpering gasps, "gotta… Wilson… Wilson's watching her. Patient meeting. Gotta be back at the hospital. Rachel. No sedative."

"House, I'm gonna call Wilson. I'm gonna tell him I had more baby stuff I wanted to dump onto you, and you tripped and it set off a pain crisis. I'm gonna tell him that, and I'm sure he won't have a problem watching her, and I'm sure his patient won't mind getting to see that beautiful baby girl. And you're going to not stroke out. Good compromise?"

He shook his head, "my responsibility."

"House. She's either going to spend the next few hours with a perfectly capable, kind and responsible doctor, or she's going to spend the next few hours with a guy who can barely stay conscious."

He finally met her eyes, and gave a short, quick nod.

She gripped his shoulder, then went for the sedative.

By the time she came back, he looked like he was holding in a scream.

She knelt, and gave him the sedative in a vein in his arm.

Within a few minutes, he was curled, breathing quickly because was still out of breath, but no longer trembling.

She gave him a local muscle relaxant, which brought color back into his cheeks, as the cramps that were causing the pain eased.

She kept her fingers on his wrist, until his pulse slowed, and his breathing steadied.

By that time, he had fallen asleep.

His phone went off.

She looked at the caller ID, then answered it, "Wilson?"

"… who is this?"

"Carla."

"Oh," said Wilson on the other end, "is House okay? He's late for picking Rachel up…"

"He's okay now. I was trying to get him to take some more of the stuff from when I had Sammy. He tripped, and had a pain crisis. I gave him a sedative and local muscle relaxant for the cramps. He just fell asleep."

"Oh," said Wilson, sounding slightly concerned, but also relieved, "okay. Well, tell him I'll watch Rachel until the sedative wears off."

"I will."

"Thanks, Carla."

"Yeah."

Carla hung up, and waited.

She watched House sleep for a while, maybe fifteen minutes.

Then she shook him, and he stirred, and looked blearily up at her.

She smiled, "hey, House."

He smiled a little as well, loopily, "I feel better now."

She snorted, "you are stoned, House."

He nodded with a smile.

*

Four hours later, House limped into Wilson's office through the balcony door, looking sheepish, "sorry."

"House, it's fine. Is your leg better?"

House nodded, "tripping set of a muscle spasm. I probably would have been fine with just the muscle relaxant, but she gave me the sedative first."

Wilson nodded, "she keeps making this sound…"

"Bzzz?" said House, buzzing his lips together, "yeah. He crouched awkwardly by Rachel in her carrier, and leaned over her, making the sound back at her.

She giggled, and clapped.

House smiled.

Wilson watched in amazement—not at Rachel, but at House.

The older doctor reached into the carrier, lifting the baby against his shoulder and limping two steps over to sit on the couch.

He laid her in his lap, and gripped her feet, wigging them back and forth.

She giggled again, all smiles.

House was slightly less animated, but his small, quiet smile was quite a lot more than could usually be got out of him.

Wilson's own smile was somewhere between the two.

*

House limped into the living room, looking exhausted.

Cuddy looked up from her nearly perpetual seat on the couch, and smiled.

"I heard you had a bad day."

House shrugged, dropping the leather bag by the table and easing himself onto the cushions, "kind of."

He extricated Rachel from her sling, and held her out to Cuddy.

Cuddy tried to reach for her, but her arms wouldn't cooperate, and she sighed, shaking her head.

House got up, and eased in behind her, Rachel in his left arm, and gently transferred her into Cuddy's arms, which he held in place himself.

Rachel gripped at Cuddy's hair, giggling.

"She sure is a happy baby," said House, with a bit of a smirk in his voice.

"Yes," said Cuddy, softly, "she is. She's happy and beautiful and… perfect. And… lucky, too."

"To have you as a mom?" asked House.

Cuddy shook her head, and whispered, though loud enough that House could hear perfectly well, to Rachel, "your daddy isn't very bright."

House was silent.

Cuddy bit her lip, hoping that she hadn't just destroyed any chance of what she said being true.

"No…" said House, haltingly, "he just isn't sure what mommy thinks of and wants from him."

Cuddy turned her head, although she couldn't turn it far enough to see House, "she wants him to be her baby's father. She doesn't know herself what else she wants or thinks. But she knows she wants that. And she's not closing off any ways this might go, yet."

House, his left arm still under Cuddy's supporting both her arms and Rachel, reached up, gently brushing his fingers over Cuddy's cheek.

Cuddy smiled.

*

House sighed, rolling over in bed, so he could reach the light and see the crib.

Rachel was crying, red in the face as she lay, kicking her feet and waving her arms.

House got up, and reached into the crib, holding her against his shoulder with his left arm, as he limped out into the kitchen.

Her diaper wasn't wet, she refused the bottle.

He sighed, and sat down, sitting her on the counter, holding her little hands in his.

She stopped crying and looked at him.

He reached over to the counter, grabbing a plum out of the fruit bowl and taking a bite out of it.

He placed it against her mouth, and she sucked on it, eyes growing wide as the juice entered her mouth.

He heard a muffled call, and Cuddy wobbled out with the walker, struggling to lift it between steps, though not to support herself on it.

"She won't sleep without me holding her or playing with her," said House, "and every time I leave her in another room, she cries."

Cuddy sat on the other stool, smiling.

House got a knife, and sliced up the plum.

She had started eating things off her plate by herself, and now she ate the bits of plum quite happily—though messily.

House picked one up, holding it near Cuddy's mouth.

Cuddy laughed, and House popped it in.

They sat with Rachel until seven in the morning.

House smiled, gripping Rachel's sticky hands, "bath time."

She giggled.

He picked her up, and Cuddy stood to follow, smiling.

They had almost reached the bathroom, when House heard a crash behind himself.

He turned, and limped as fast as he could back to where Cuddy was.

She had fallen, and was lying curled on the floor, obviously in pain.

He set Rachel on the floor, and lowered himself painfully next to her, gripping her hand.

"Cuddy?"

She looked at him, and her expression was mournful, and frustrated, and a little sheepish, but not scared or too upset.

He sighed, "where are you hurt?"

She shook her head, "I'm not injured, it just hurt to fall."

House nodded, picking Rachel up, "I'm gonna put her in her crib, then I'll be right back."

Cuddy nodded, looking ashamed, now.

House came back, and gripped her under the armpits, the way Carla did when Cuddy fell at PT.

He lifted, and managed to get her to her feet.

She really could barely keep her legs under her, and she did seem to have injured her wrist.

House couldn't help her.

He could keep her standing, but he couldn't walk holding her extra weight. Even if it would have just set off a spasm, he would have done it, but his leg would simply give out if he tried.

"House," she whispered, "you need to call Wilson."

He shook his head, and painfully helped her back down to the floor.

"I'll be right back.

He left, and Cuddy frowned, hearing Rachel start crying in House's bedroom.

House came back with a wheelchair Cuddy had never seen before. Hers had discarded in glee the day she got to use the walker.

She looked up at him, confused.

He gripped her under the armpits, and she gripped his arms, and he lifted her into the chair.

"Where did this come from?"

"The closet. It's been in there since I got out of it after my infarction. You okay to use it with that wrist?"

She nodded, "yes. Though I might have to borrow this for a while. Don't think I should support weight on it."

He nodded.

"I'll give her her bath."

Cuddy nodded, and wheeled herself into her bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

House sat on the table, with Rachel in the stroller next to the table, because this was just an evaluation, not a real session.

Carla looked at him.

"I have two sets of bad news. One of them is worse than the other. Which do you want to hear first?"

"The better one, I guess."

"You can't do anything but keep it at this level of strength until you get your pain under control. Keeping going like this is cruel and unusual punishment, and you haven't even done anything."

House reached down, as Rachel started fussing, and picked her up, holding her against his shoulder.

She was really getting big…

"What's the worse news?"

"It's about Cuddy."

House stiffened slightly.

"I can't tell her this, because I know it'll affect how hard she tries… but I'm not sure how much more improvement she's going to get."

"She falls, using the walker. It seemed like she was ready for it, but…"

"I know. I made a mistake with that, House. I'm sorry."

House sighed, and nodded.

"You should tell her."

"You think she should hear it from me?"

House snorted, "no."

"Then you might want to be the one who tells her."

"She doesn't know I'm talking to you on a regular basis."

Carla frowned.

"What?"

"I didn't tell her about the PT. She's not at the hospital, she always calls me on my cellphone because I'm never in my office anyway, the kids know not to tell her, and Wilson doesn't know I come."

"Why haven't you told her?"

"Because I'm looking after Rachel. Because I'm helping her. Because she gets put off if someone tries too much to take care of her. She doesn't want someone who thinks she's some damsel in distress."

"House, she's known you since you were in med school, she's not gonna think you're that kind of guy," said Carla, tone flat.

House shrugged.

Rachel fussed.

House sighed, and held her out in front of him.

"Hey, say hi to Carla."

He handed her to the other doctor, who smiled, taking her.

"Well aren't you getting big?"

Rachel waved her arms and legs, excitedly, then put her hand in her mouth and sucked on it.

House snorted.

"You should tell her," he said, getting off the table and pulling a teething ring out of the leather bag, "she has a right to know what she's fighting for."

"Are you still coming?"

House shrugged, "Rachel isn't getting any lighter, and the pain's down some since the muscles have been getting stronger. I don't want it to atrophy again, and I don't have to deal with someone who wants me to do cheesy mind tricks to try to keep my morale up. Yeah, I'll keep coming."

"Make another appointment with Marian. Okay? Talk to her. Because what you're on now isn't helping enough."

House nodded, taking his gurgling baby back from the grey-eyed woman.

He stopped, cold, and Carla instinctively put her arms back out in case he dropped Rachel.

He didn't, though, just shook his head, and set Rachel in the stroller.

"What?" asked Carla, "spasm?"

House shook his head, "I just thought of her as my baby. In my head, she's always just been Cuddy's baby. But… I just… thought of her as mine. Mine and Cuddy's."

Carla smiled.

"Ah, the wonders of parenthood without marriage. Just wait until age two. Then you'll be wishing she was still just Cuddy's baby—that's what happened when Marian had Aaron."

House snorted.

*

Cuddy came out of the PT lab, using the walker, expression defiant.

House stood, putting Rachel in the stroller next to him, and they started to move towards the exit of the hospital.

Cuddy fell.

House stopped, kneeling by her.

She started to cry, and he knelt, utterly taken aback.

Lisa Cuddy didn't own tear ducts, as far as he knew.

But he hesitantly reached forward, touching her shoulder.

She scooted close to him, and buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her uncooperative arms around his chest.

He sighed, and awkwardly patted her on the back.

She cried.

So did Rachel.

House sighed again, and looked at the ceiling.

*

They finished turning Cuddy's room into a nursery and Rachel started sleeping through the night again.

6:39

9:27

11:51

2:48

5:14

House sat up, rubbing his face, and looking over at the woman next to him.

She smiled, and reached up, laying her hand along the side of his face, as best she could with her arm still not cooperating all the way.

7:53

*

House pushed the stroller into the differential room, and sat down, watching his team.

They all seemed to have taken fairly well to their misanthropic boss cooing over a baby.

Well, not cooing.

Never once had the syllable "coo" exited his mouth.

Well, except, in saying Coumadin, or something.

Wilson looked up, as House came in, carrying Rachel on his left hip.

"Yes?" he said, before looking at his friend, then, "you look cheerful."

House sat down on the couch, and handed Rachel a red, yellow and blue teething toy shaped vaguely like a rocket ship.

"Yeah," he said, looking at his friend with a grin, "I am."

Wilson's eyebrows went straight up.

"She finally decided she wants a relationship with you?"

House nodded.

Wilson smiled.

"I'm glad."

House nodded, "so am I."

Rachel gurgled at him.

He picked her up, and sat her in his lap.

She smiled, dropping the teething toy, which fell on House's bad leg in a very bad place.

House grunted, facing losing color for a moment, "dammit!"

She looked up at him, eyes wide, then started crying.

House stared at her.

Wilson frowned, "House?"

House didn't even seem to hear him.

He was looking in horror at the crying baby girl in his lap.

"House, what's wrong?" asked Wilson, getting to his feet.

House gently lifted Rachel off his lap, set her very carefully on the cushions, and limped out onto the balcony.

Which he leaned over the wall of, and threw up.

Wilson handed Rachel her toy, then followed House out onto the balcony, rubbing his friend's back as the older doctor retched.

"What… just happened?" asked Wilson, as House sunk down to sit on the concrete, trembling.

"I swore at her," he said, looking up at Wilson with something approaching fear in his eyes, "she just dropped something out of her mouth, and I yelled."

Wilson stared down at his friend.

"House, you swear if *you* drop something on yourself."

House shook his head, "I shouldn't be doing this. I've seen the statistics. I shouldn't be doing this."

Wilson looked almost a little frightened, "House, what…?"

House shook his head, kneading his forehead with the balls of his palms.

Wilson knelt.

"House. Listen to me. There is *nothing wrong* with what just happened."

"Yes there is. What kind of person yells at a baby for dropping something."

"House, you didn't yell at her, you made an exclamation because your leg hurt because something was dropped on it."

House shook his head, "I shouldn't be doing this."

Wilson kicked his friend in the shin.

"Dammit Wilson!" yelled House.

"There, see the difference?"

House looked up at him.

"You said dammit Wilson when you were pissed at me. You didn't say dammit Rachel."

House kept eye contact with his friend for a long time.

Then he nodded, and got to his feet, limping back inside the office, and picking Rachel up, holding her close to his chest, and stroking her back.

She slowly stopped crying, and fell asleep against his shoulder, as he held her tight.

He left, and Wilson watched him go, wondering what that had been all about.

*

Over the next two weeks, House spent less and less time with Rachel, left her with Cuddy or the team or Wilson more and more often.

Cuddy finally confronted him about it, yelling at him, asking him if the entire thing of taking care of Rachel had just been to get into her pants.

He shook his head and limped away without a word.

He locked himself in his office in the apartment for a week, and wouldn't come out except once, to get a large box of crackers and a gallon of orange juice.

Wilson finally came, and shouldered the door in.

House was sitting on the floor in a dark corner, shivering.

Wilson knelt, and took his friend's pulse.

"House," he said, quietly, taking in his friend's shivering body, sweaty face and clothes, red-rimmed eyes, and pale, pasty, greenish face, "you're detoxing. And bloody."

He gently pushed his friend's sleeves back, revealing jagged cuts.

He sighed, and went and found House's meds, and brought them in, handing one of each to his friend.

House threw them across the room.

He looked at Wilson, trembling.

"Kiss Cuddy. Move in with her."

"What?"

"She needs someone. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive. Be here for her."

He grabbed a knife, and Wilson kicked him in the balls, which made him drop it.

Wilson took the knife away, and tossed it across the room.

House looked at it, then at his friend.

He shook his head, starting to cry, "I shouldn't be alive."

*

When Wilson called his best friend's mother to tell her that her son had gone insane, he did not expect to get the answer he received.

He did not expect her to ask if House was having something to do with a child.

He did not expect her to ask if House had gotten angry with the child, or even near the child.

He did not expect her to say she was driving out as soon as she could, and not to admit Greg to the crazy ward just yet.

But she did.

*

House sat in a corner of his office, crying silently, as he had been for an entire day, since Wilson had taken the knife away.

The door opened, and a person came in.

"Go away," he said, "I shouldn't be alive."

Arms wrapped around his shoulders in the darkened room, and a familiar voice whispered in his ear, "you are not your father, Greg. You are nothing like him. You are not capable of doing the things that he did."

He cried, as she continued to speak.

*

Hours later, as Wilson and Cuddy sat on the couch, waiting, Rachel in asleep in her crib in the nursery, they heard two sets of footsteps coming out, one steady, the other stumbling and uneven.

Wilson stood, and caught his friend as House collapsed, and blythe gripped his other side.

"He just needed to hear some things," said blythe, with a small, sad smile, "he'll be fine."

Wilson sighed, "I'm going to take him to the hospital. He's really dehydrated. You're okay with Rachel, Lisa?"

Cuddy nodded.

Wilson lifted his unconscious friend and carried him out to the car.

Blythe sat on the couch next to Cuddy, and covered the younger woman's hand with her own.

"He isn't unstable," she said, quietly, "he just thought the thing he fears the absolute most came true."

Cuddy looked at Blythe.

"What? Wilson said all he did was curse when Rachel dropped her teething toy on his bad leg, and then he snapped."

Blythe sighed.

"He will never tell you this. And I want you to never let him know I told you. But Greg's father hurt him. Hurt him in ways I couldn't bear to watch. And my sweet, sweet boy fears, more than anything else, becoming like his father was, doing the things his father did. Greg is nothing like his father. He never was, and he never will be. That man was a mistake I never should have made. Greg is not capable of anything his father did. But he thought he was like his father. And…" she shook her head, "he couldn't live with the thought that he was like John. He thought that anyone like John didn't deserve to live."

Cuddy swallowed.

She nodded, once, "thank you for telling me what this was all about."

Blythe shook her head, "just promise me you won't tell him I told you."

"I promise."

Blythe hugged her, "may I see the girl?"

Cuddy nodded, smiling, and pulling herself across into the wheelchair, "in here."

*

Later, Wilson brought House home from the hospital, and they sat on the couch while Blythe held Rachel and told stories about House's childhood.

House looked much, much better, now that he didn't think he had become something he hated, and wasn't detoxing from three drugs at once.

Wilson left, and House offered his mother the bed that used to be Cuddy's.

She smiled, and accepted.

He looked at her, and spoke again, "you told Cuddy why I went nuts."

Blythe sighed, and nodded, "I'm sorry. I just thought—"

"Thank you," he said, and got up, limping out into the bedroom, "sorry, I'm pooped. I'll see you tomorrow, Mom."

Blythe smiled, and watched him go.

She looked back at Cuddy, who smiled as well, looking almost as tired as Greg had, and followed the older woman to put Rachel in bed.

"You should get some sleep, dear," said Blythe, giving Cuddy a warm hug.

Cuddy nodded, pushing herself into the bedroom.

She crawled into bed next to House, and rested her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest.

He looked at her with a tired smile.

"Do you remember what tomorrow is?"

"Um," said Cuddy, sleepily, "Monday?"

House brushed his thumb along her jaw, "it's your first day back at work."

She looked at him.

Then smiled, and rested her head back down.

"No," she admitted, "I honestly forgot."

"I'm sorry."

"For not wanting to hurt Rachel? I think you can be forgiven."

House chuckled, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

*

He didn't wake the next morning… or rather, he did, but he was so exhausted and screwed up from the last week that he could barely sit up.

Cuddy smiled, and Wilson drove her to the hospital, and House stayed at home with his mom and Rachel.

He slept for most of the day and through the next night and a lot of that morning.

Finally, he was able to get up and move around.

He spent a lot of time talking to his mom… something he had never before in his life had a chance to do. He had never had time alone with his mother.

She sat on the couch next to him, as he held Rachel up by her arms, and she balanced somewhat precariously on his knees.

He talked to her about the ducklings and the kids.

She talked to him about their neighbors, and his relatives.

He sat, and finally Rachel fell asleep, and he picked her up, carrying her to the crib, and sitting her in it.

His mother followed him, and watched her as Greg pulled a blanket up over her.

Then she looked at Gregory, and gave him the biggest hug she had ever given him.

He grunted, standing stiffly, blinking.

*

House left the sleeping baby girl with his mother, while he went to pick Cuddy up from the hospital.

She wheeled up to the curb, and pulled the door open.

House got up, and picked up the wheelchair as she transferred herself into the passenger seat.

He put it in the trunk, and limped around to the driver's side, slipping back into his seat.

He leaned over, and kissed Cuddy, which made her snort.

"You're not saying hello, you're just horney."

House smirked, and drove back to the apartment.

Blythe was sitting on the couch, Rachel sitting next to her and giggling as she sang a song House hadn't heard since he was seven.

Cuddy smiled, and watched House pick Rachel up, and hold her above him, where she wiggled and giggled and laughed and buzzed.

Blythe met her eyes, and she knew that she was not the only one who was enjoying seeing House being a father this much.


	4. Chapter 4

House looked up, as Chase wandered into the office, looking lost.

"Uh," House said, as he sat, holding Rachel in one arm as he held her bottle with the other, "why are you here?"

"I cheated on Cameron," he said, blankly.

"What, you looking for Taub?"

Chase shook his head, "it's not that. She knows, and it's okay, because she took me to this party, and someone spiked the punch, and she doesn't even know what she did, but she woke up naked, and I just happen to actually remember doing it."

"So you cheated, but she doesn't mind. Why are you here again?"

"Because I liked it. I liked it more than I liked being with Cameron."

"Ah, in that case, go find Wilson. He has plenty of experience with that."

"He has plenty of experience having sex with a man and realizing he likes it way better than having sex with a woman?"

House groaned, "that sucks."

Chase looked at him.

Then smiled, weakly.

"You really don't give a damn, do you?"

House shook his head, "nope."

"Well then I guess the world hasn't quite broken after all."

House snorted, and set the now-empty bottle on his desk, gesturing one-handedly at Chase to hand him the baby bag.

Chase did, and House stuffed the bottle in a pocket.

House took Rachel's pacifier out of the bag, putting it in her mouth, and held the baby girl in his arms until she fell asleep.

Then he looked up at chase, "are you going to say something else, or has the sight of me taking care of a baby rendered you speechless?"

Chase sat in the recliner, as he watched House.

"No… it's just… kind of nice to watch."

House rolled his eyes, "go away. Go find Thirteen; maybe she'll have something to tell you."

*

Later that week, Wilson dropped Cuddy off, and she was more than a little surprised to find House on his hands and knees on the floor, grimacing, as he crawled around.

"What… are you doing?"

"Rachel decided it would be fun to stick her toy in an outlet. Thankfully, it was rubber and not wet. I'm child-proofing the apartment."

He stuck a plastic cover in a socket, then looked around.

He sat up, seemingly satisfied.

Rachel crawled over, from where she had been playing with blocks.

She smiled at him, and giggled.

He picked her up, and buzzed into her neck.

Cuddy watched, smiling.

House held Rachel up to her, and she took the baby girl, blinking.

House scooted over to the couch, and slowly, painfully started to pull himself to his feet.

He jerked, and in a split second, he was on the floor, holding on to his leg as though it were being sawed off.

"House!"

He grunted, but managed to raise a hand off his leg, telling her he was okay.

He crawled onto the couch, and curled there, breathing heavily, his back towards Cuddy.

Cuddy sat Rachel on her lap, and wheeled over to the couch, touching House's shoulder.

He raised his hand again.

"House, I'm not gonna believe you're okay unless you say something," she said, catching Rachel as the girl tried to crawl off her lap.

He slowly, painfully turned over, and looked at her, wearily, his face paper white.

She sighed.

"Every Wednesday, your leg pain is twice as bad as usual."

He sighed, tiredly.

"PT does that," he mumbled, reaching to gently brush his thumb over Rachel's cheek.

Cuddy looked at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought you'd be mad."

"Mad that you were finally checking out some PT after ten years of me nagging you to do so?"

"Mad that I was doing it so I could take care of you."

Cuddy gripped his hand.

"You're an idiot."

He smiled tiredly, nodding.

Cuddy brushed her hand over his face, "good."

He closed his eyes.

She put Rachel in her crib, and sat in the armchair, watching TV on mute while House slept off the pain.

*

Cuddy blinked, as her cellphone went off in the middle of a meeting… with House's ringtone.

"I'm sorry," she said, "it's my boyfriend, he knows not to call me unless it's an emergency."

The donor nodded.

"Yeah, House?"

"I think you should probably hear this."

A pause, and then, "cu-y! cu-y!"

She blinked, "she's babbling. She's been babbling for ages."

House's voice, "Rachel, what's mommy's name?"

"Cu-y!"

Cuddy nearly dropped the phone.

"Th-thank you, House. I… I'm in a meeting. I'll call you back later."

"Okay. Just thought you would want to hear."

"Uh-huh."

She hung up.

The donor, a woman about House's mother's age, smiled.

"Do I detect that something major has just gone on with baby development?"

Cuddy smiled weakly, "she just said her first word."

House sat on the table in Chang's office, watching Rachel chew on a set of brightly colored plastic keys.

Chang came in, and smiled at him and Rachel.

"Still hanging in there, I see?"

House nodded, with a small smirk.

Chang set her file down on the table, and pulled up a stool.

"You okay?"

House nodded.

"You look like you're in too much pain for the meds to be working right."

"I couldn't get down onto the floor."

"You couldn't physically lower yourself, or it hurt too much to try?"

"It hurt too much to try. I got there by falling and, but I couldn't get down in a controlled manner. Otherwise I would be telling this to Carla, instead."

Chang nodded, holding out her hands for him to straighten his leg, and looking down at Rachel, "what were you doing? Rachel being a terror? Throwing daddy's papers on the floor?"

Rachel giggled.

House snorted, "she decided it would be fun to stick a toy in a power outlet. I saw her and grabbed her away, and was trying to put one of those little plastic covers on it, but I couldn't get down onto the floor."

Chang nodded, letting go of his leg.

"Nerve or muscle?"

"Muscle. Keeps spasming… anything sets it off, it's really touchy."

She nodded, "I'll up the muscle relaxants, see if that helps."

House nodded, and took the script she wrote him, and watched as she crouched by Rachel's stroller, playing with the giggling girl.

Rachel seemed to love Chang.

House smiled a bit.

He'd been surprised, ten years ago, when Carla started showing.

He'd sort of expected that Chang would be the one who got pregnant, if they decided to have kids by a sperm donor, or something.

But Marian was younger than Carla, still doing her fellowship at the time.

They'd had their daughter, Samantha, a few weeks after Carla had stopped doing sessions.

He'd gotten a post-card in the mail.

It had been a few years later, that he'd gotten a second one, with Carla and Marian sitting, and a little blond girl holding a dark-haired baby wrapped in blue.

"So how old's…" he grimaced.

Chang smiled, "Aaron, the younger one?"

House nodded.

"Four."

"Cool."

She smiled.

*

Foreman frowned, as House stumbled into the smaller office, half holding himself up on the stroller.

The older doctor stumbled again trying to get to his desk, and that time fell, with a loud grunt.

The kids all looked at Foreman, who shrugged, and went into House's office.

House looked dizzily up at him.

"Have you been eating?"

"Yeah," said House, taking Foreman's offered hand, "pain lady upped the dose of muscle relaxants. Dizzy, blurred vision."

"You *drove* here like this?"

House shook his head, staggering, "it didn't start until a few minutes ago. First time I've taken the higher dosage."

Foreman nodded.

Rachel wailed.

House sighed, and tried to go figure out what the problem was, but fell.

Foreman rolled his eyes, put Kutner on baby-sitting duty, and gripped House's arm, half-dragging him over to the recliner, where he sat, looking… dizzy.

"Do we have a patient?"

"No."

"Okay."

House could hear Rachel giggling from the other room.

He closed his eyes and slept.

*

Marian took the muscle relaxants back down, and upped the NSAIDs instead.

*

House walked in, as Cuddy sat on the couch.

"House…" she said, looking at him, "I can take the legal guardianship back now."

He nodded, hesitating, "she's yours first, Cuddy."

"I want her to have both of us, House. We… we're like pool balls. We crash into each other every so often, and then we break apart. We can't ever have real relationships with anyone else, but we're both so screwed up we can't manage to stay together for more than a year."

House nodded, "I get that."

"She's maybe the thing that could hold us together."

House nodded.

"So… so I want to marry you. So that we can both be her legal guardians. It doesn't have to mean… that we're married. We don't have to wear rings. We can keep colliding and bouncing apart. But legally, we'll both be her parents. That way neither of us will be bouncing in and out of her life."

House plucked the pen out of her hand, leaned over the table, and signed the form to apply for a marriage license that was sitting on the table.

Then he looked at her.

She looked surprised.

"I would have married you twenty years ago if I could have gotten up the courage. I would marry you now if I wasn't too much of a coward to get rid of my escape route. And I will certainly sign a marriage license so that we can both be there for Rachel."

Cuddy wasn't a sappy person.

But something about House's flashes of humanity always got to her.

She smiled, and cried.

House looked alarmed.

*

Cuddy sat on the couch, watching House limp around after Rachel, as the girl toddled along through the apartment.

It was comical, this tall man limping along after this tiny child.

But it was also beautiful.

*

Wilson walked into the bowling alley, looking around.

Finally, he spotted his friend's lanky form.

He hadn't identified it previously, because it was currently kneeling on the floor, helping a two-year old roll a bowling ball down the alley.

Wilson smiled, and walked up.

House and Rachel turned around, and Rachel let out a squeal and ran towards him, "Wilson!"

Wilson smiled, and picked her up.

She smiled, "I bowl!"

"Uh-huh," said Wilson, setting her down so she could go pick up her ball as it rolled out into the ball return.

Wilson looked at House, who looked… tired… and pale.

"You okay?"

House nodded, "yeah, just… hectic. Lost a patient, hospital's being inspected, and Rachel had a cold."

Wilson nodded, reaching over to grip his friend's shoulder, briefly.

House rolled his eyes, and turned, as Rachel ran back over, "I want food!"

House nodded, "they've got pretzels, nachos, and fries."

"Pretzel."

House took her hand, nodding to Wilson, "I'll be right back."

Wilson smiled, and sat down to put on his bowling shoes.

A few moments later, he turned around, at a commotion at the food counter.

He walked over, as he failed to identify House's head, which would usually be sticking up above the crowd.

He found his friend sitting on the floor, holding his elbow.

Rachel was crying.

A lot of people were staring.

House sighed, as he saw Wilson, "just the medication. Having some side effects from the new anti-depressant, I think."

Wilson nodded, and pulled House to his feet.

House limped back to the lane while Wilson waited with Rachel for her pretzel.

*

When Wilson came back with a much calmer toddler on his hip, House was sitting in one of the chairs, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Are you okay, House?" asked Wilson, setting Rachel down and telling her to take House's turn.

House nodded, then shook his head, "I don't know. I feel like I'm going to pass ou—call Cameron."

Wilson blinked, "what?"

"Abdominal pain the last two weeks and tarry stool."

Wilson sighed, "the NSAIDs."

House nodded, "it's just an ulcer. Call Cameron… I should probably go to the emergency room, but there's no point in scaring Cuddy."

Wilson nodded, and called the blond emergency medicine attending.

Rachel came over, and climbed up into House's lap.

"I got gutter."

"That's okay. Dad isn't feeling too good, so we might have to call it quits, anyway."

"Okay."

House gently brushed Rachel's dark brown hair back out of her face.

"I think Uncle Wilson should drive you home okay?"

Wilson turned around, blinking.

House looked at him, blinking sweat out of his eyes, "a-m-b-u-l-a-n-c-e."

Wilson nodded, told Cameron something, picked up his bowling ball, and gripped Rachel's hand, leading her out.

House dialed 911, then leaned forward, and vomited.

He explained what was going on, staring down at his bloody spew until his vision went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

House opened his eyes.

There was a small head resting on his shoulder, and a little hand curled in his hospital gown.

He sighed, and gently eased his sleeping daughter into his lap as he sat up.

Wilson was there, snoring light in a chair.

"Wilson," rasped House, his throat irritatingly raw.

Wilson woke, and sat up, then smiled as he saw that House was awake.

"You're fine. Rachel didn't see a thing, and Cameron explained what was going on as soon as Cuddy showed up at the emergency room."

House nodded.

"Two ulcers."

Rachel stirred, and looked up at House.

"Dad!"

She hugged him, "you not wake up!"

"It's okay, Rache. It's fine."

She cried.

He sighed, and hugged her.

"Cuddy had to meet with a donor, but she should be back soon."

House nodded.

*

Rachel was asleep when Cuddy came in, curled on the bed next to her father. Wilson had gone back to his office.

Cuddy climbed up next to House on the bed, opposite Rachel.

He put his arm around her shoulders, sighing, "sorry about the scare."

She shook her head and kissed him.

He smiled weakly, as she pulled away.

*

It was that same week, that House was sitting in the living room, dizzy from the upping of his meds to counteract the reducing of the NSAIDs, that Cuddy came in, and sat in his lap, being careful to not put any weight on the painful part of his thigh.

He blinked for a moment.

Then realized she had walked in on forearm crutches.

Which was not something she had done before.

He smiled, and wrapped his arms around her waist, "you kept going to PT."

She nodded.

He pulled her close, smiling.

"I can't handle anything except completely flat surfaces," she admitted, "but it's better than before."

*

House sat curled in the recliner, as Rachel played doctor with Kutner on the floor of the office, and the rest of the team worked a case.

He slept for a while, and woke when Foreman shook his shoulder.

"The patient went into respiratory arrest. Here's the chest x-rays."

House rubbed his face, and wobbled dizzily over to the light box.

"Dad sick now?"

"No, Rachel," said House, as he looked at the x-rays, "Dad's just dizzy."

"You said that before."

"It's okay, Rache. Dad's fine. This patient, on the other hand, has parasites. Check the stool."

Foreman nodded, but gripped House's arm on the way back over to the recliner.

House didn't object.

Rachel watched him for a while, but eventually succumbed to her two-year-old's attention span and went back to playing with Kutner.

Foreman ended up giving House a ride to Chang's office, and another one home.

She put him on a different muscle relaxant.

*

A week later, he was curled in the recliner again, but that time irritable and in pain, his leg spasming non-stop.

He went back to the first stuff and just tried to work through the dizziness.

It wasn't like he really had to walk anywhere, anyway. And he didn't have to carry Rachel around very much anymore, either.

She was either in her stroller or walking.

Cuddy wasn't exactly thrilled with the new plan, but his week of pain on the second drug hadn't been easy to watch.

And Rachel was just getting to the point where she understood what these things meant…that Dad was in pain, and Mom had trouble with her legs.

So now was probably not the best time for a major reworking of House's pain management system…

*

House, Cuddy and Rachel looked up, as the door opened without a knock.

It was just Wilson… but the man never came in without at least asking, not that they really minded.

He looked… very upset.

Rachel toddled over to him, and hugged his leg.

He picked her up, and set her on his hip, but didn't look happy to see her like he usually did.

He walked over, and handed her down to Cuddy.

Then looked at House, who nodded, and got to his feet, limping out into the kitchen with his friend.

Rachel looked at her mother, "what wrong with Wilson?"

"I don't know, Rachel," said Cuddy, "go get Dad's stethoscope. You can listen to my heart."

Rachel brightened and ran into the office to get it.

*

House tried to sit on one of the stools, but had to stop and brace himself on the counter, dizzy.

Wilson stopped pacing long enough to grip his friend's arm, helping House sit.

"What's up?" asked House, once he was seated.

"I'm in love with Cameron."

House looked at his friend for a long time.

"Great," he said.

Wilson started pacing again, "I don't know what to do… she's still getting over Chase… I'm still getting over Amber…"

"Then get over it together," said House, and he actually sounded vaguely sincere.

Wilson looked at the older doctor.

"You're serious."

House shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm serious."

Wilson sighed, "I need to pee."

House snorted, and waved, "well don't let me hold you up…"

Wilson smiled weakly, and went to do his business.

He came back out very shortly, though, and looked at House, "um, the floor's covered in urine."

House blinked for a moment.

Then limped out into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to Cuddy and Rachel.

"Rache," said House, gently, "did you try to use the toilet like a big person?"

She nodded.

"Could you not get onto the seat?"

"I tried to pee but it just went down."

House blinked for a moment.

"Rachel," he said, badly forcing down a smirk, "were you trying to pee like Mom, or like Dad?"

"Mom has trouble."

"So you copied Dad?"

Rachel nodded brightly.

The room was silent for a moment.

Then House laughed, quietly, and, exchanging a smile with Cuddy, took Rachel onto his lap.

"Okay," he said, "here's the thing. Dad's got a tube he points to get the pee in the bowl. But you don't have that tube. So you gotta sit on the bowl, instead of standing over it."

She blinked at him, "oh. How-come I don't get a tube? I want a tube."

House closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head, meeting Wilson's amused eyes, before looking back at his daughter, "only boys have that tube."

"That's not fair!"

"But girls get to have babies, so that makes it even."

Rachel blinked, then replied, "okay."

House patted her head and handed her back to Cuddy, who looked relived that his talk had not included vivid descriptions or anatomical models.

Cuddy climbed into bed next to House, her head resting on his shoulder, and cried.

He put his book down, alarmed, and looked at her through his reading glasses.

"Cuddy?"

"It's been two months. I haven't been getting my period."

"Uh… why are you crying?"

"I'm never going to have a child out of my body. I'm never going to have a child with your and my bodies."

House tilted his head, "are you… sure?"

"What, you think I miscounted for two months? House, I'm hitting menopause."

"There… are other reasons for lack of bleeding," said House, slowly.

"I haven't lost weight. If anything, I've gained it."

"...that's kind of my point."

She looked at him. Then her eyes widened.

She grabbed his hand, "you're driving me to the grocery store. Now."

He smirked, and shook his head, "no need. There's three stick tests in the bathroom under the sink."

She stared at him.

He shrugged, "we've been having unprotected sex. I figured it was possible this would happen."

*

Cuddy made it into the bathroom before House did, and was sitting on the toilet peeing on the stick by the time he got there.

House perched himself on the tub, and they waited in silence.

Cuddy handed House the stick, unable to look at it herself.

House looked.

Then smiled a bit, "I'm guessing the plus sign is a good thing, right?"

Cuddy looked at him, eyes wide.

He showed her the stick.

She hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe.

House reflected, as he patted her back, that her pt had definitely paid off, at least in her arms.

*

House sat on the bench, tapping his fingers, as Rachel played with dolls on the floor in front of him.

Cuddy had wanted to find out if the fetus was healthy alone.

The doctor came out, and House raised his head.

The woman smiled, "you can come in now."

House nodded, taking Rachel's hand. She scooped up her dolls with the other one, and walked with him into the room.

Cuddy was lying on the table, holding the ultrasound probe over her own abdomen.

"Look," she said, turning the monitor so House could see it.

House gulped.

He looked at Cuddy, who smiled sadly, "the… the chance of me carrying… isn't very good. But…"

House nodded, sort of stumbling backwards into a chair, though out of dizziness rather than shock.

"Is Mom sick?" asked Rachel, worriedly.

Cuddy shook her head, "Mom might be going to have a sister or brother for you. But we don't know yet if it will work, okay?"

Rachel seemed uninterested in any news other than the fact that mom wasn't sick. Cuddy thought that it was probably good that she wasn't excited. This probably wouldn't work out, anyway.

*

Two weeks later, House locked himself in his office.

Cuddy stared at the door, and asked through it if she needed to call his Mom.

The response was him asking if Rachel was there.

Cuddy told him Rachel was at the hospital day care.

House opened the door.

He looked horrible.

She sighed, "what is it this time?"

"Switching to a new medication," he mumbled, "withdrawal from the old stuff."

"House, that's not a reason to lock yourself in your office."

"How do you know!?"

Cuddy stared at him.

He rubbed his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, "I'm having mood swings and I'm yelling at anyone who speaks to me."

Her expression cleared slightly, and she reached out, gently taking his hand, "it's okay, House. I can handle seeing you through this."

He nodded, "it wasn't you, it was Rachel. I didn't want to yell at her."

"This isn't going to start the thing about your Dad again, is it?"

He scowled, "look… I'm sorry I scared you that time, okay? But it wasn't exactly something *I* want to repeat, either!"

"House, calm down."

He turned away, stumbling back into his darkened office.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

She came in after him, as he sat at the desk chair, "it isn't your fault, House."

"Swearing at a baby for dropping something? Oh, yeah, that was totally out of my control. I'm so perfect a person. I can't imagine why nobody can stay around me for more than an hour."

Cuddy blinked at him, "House…"

"I should never have done this. I'm not the kind of person who *can* do this. I'm married. I should not *be* married."

"You're not married, House. Legally, yeah. But I don't consider you my husband."

Something flashed, in his blue eyes.

He didn't say anything else, but the room, which had seemed filled with tension and anger before, was suddenly cold.

He got up, and limped out past her.

She turned around, confused.

She heard the front door slam closed.

What… had just happened?

She crutched to the front of the apartment.

It was pouring out. House hadn't taken his coat.

She sighed, and just hoped he didn't hurt himself.

*

House hasn't been to the jogging park in months.

Well, he'd taken Rachel here once, but she'd gotten bored, and that wasn't what he was talking about.

He hasn't been here to avoid Cuddy in months.

He hasn't been here to think in months.

He hasn't been here to let emotion out in months.

It's raining.

And he's crying.

He sits on the table, as rain pounds down on his head, and his body begins to be chilled.

He sits there, cold rain and hot tears mixing on his face.

He doesn't know how long it's been, since he cried.

No, that's not true.

He knows.

It was when Wilson walked out and told him they weren't friends.

The time before that was when Wilson asked him to kill himself for Amber—as good as told him he didn't matter.

He scrubbed at his face, but it did nothing but get snot on his hands.

He wiped them on his pants.

The time before that was when Stacy had told him he wasn't worth what a bastard he'd become.

The time before that was when Dylan had left for his career.

The time before that was when he'd graduated med school top of his class.

When that hadn't mattered to John.

When John had told him he'd done it because he couldn't have handled the Marines.

When he'd climbed in bed with an undergrad, and never wanted to come out.

When she'd stared at him when he stared to cry in the middle of something that didn't tend to make people cry.

He laughs to himself, shivering now, on the table in the rain.

He hadn't cried before that.

The first time he cried since he was five years old was in her bed.

She'd broken the damn, she'd made him…

She'd made him human in a way he hadn't let himself be since the first time he'd sat in the bone chilling water.

Since the first time he'd cried in front of his father, when he was five and John had gotten back from his posting.

He closed his eyes, still crying.

He wished the rain would chill him.

He wished the rain would do what that first bath in ice had done.

He wished the rain would freeze his heart.

He wished he wouldn't have to feel.

He wished he wouldn't care what anyone said.

He wished he wouldn't have to hurt.

He wished he wouldn't have to wish.

*

He eventually slipped out of consciousness, as his body cooled below a temperature it could handle.

A hand shaking him made him open his eyes.

"Can you hear me? You're very cold. I'm going to call an ambulance."

He vaguely registered a police uniform, and shook his head, mumbling something that didn't make any sense.

"Just try to stay awake, alright?"

He tried to answer in the affirmative, but he was already unconscious again.


	6. Chapter 6

Blond.

That couldn't be good.

"Can you hear me?"

"Mmmh…"

"Sorry?"

"Mm."

"House. Gregory House, can you hear me?"

His brain was finally starting to focus. Blond, female, familiar.

"Cameron?"

He opened his eyes again.

She was leaning over him, a frightened look on her face.

"What happened?" he asked, frowning.

"You got dangerously hypothermic in a jogging park."

He blinked at her.

Oh.

Shit.

"Uh… how'd I get here?"

"A police officer found you and called an ambulance."

"God, I hope it wasn't Tritter."

"Um…"

He closed his eyes.

"Wonderful. My life is complete."

"You would have died if he hadn't found you."

He opened his eyes, "and I should be happy about that?"

She blinked at him.

"You… wanted… to die?"

"No. But I didn't particularly want to live."

"Do you still feel that way?"

He shook his head, "no. I was really fucked up. Where's Cuddy?"

"I haven't called her. I… wanted to make sure you pulled through. Your heart stopped three times."

"Well call her and tell her I'm an asshole."

"What…. What happened?"

"She… legally, we're married."

Cameron stared.

He shook his head, "it was so we'd both have legal guardianship of Rachel. But… I'd kind of… just in my head… liked the thought of it. We were yelling… I'm coming off Amitriptyline and I really wasn't thinking straight… and she sort of said she didn't think of me as… well, being married to her. Like I said, I was really fucked up."

Cameron nodded, sighing.

"Plus," said House, "I haven't almost died in nearly a year. I was overdue."

Cameron laughed, shaking her head, "you're insane, House."

"Yeah…"

"I'll call Cuddy, okay? You rest."

House nodded, and closed his eyes.

*

Cuddy sighed, as she curled her hand around House's.

He opened his eyes, looking at her sleepily.

"I think we need a break," she said, quietly.

He said nothing, just looked at her.

"We're obviously getting sick of each other."

He closed his eyes.

"House?"

"It… wasn't… you've got it backwards."

She blinked, as he opened his eyes.

"I… know you're not… I know you're starting to bounce away. That there's only so much of me a person can stand at a time. But… I'm not. I'm… getting stuck to you."

She bit her lip, "I… you know this won't work. You know we can't force it. I'm sorry… if you're going to get hurt."

He nodded, "I know. I'm… not going to get hurt. Because there was no expectation. you're not breaking a promise. And… I know you'll bounce back towards me eventually. A year, two… some time in the future, you'll bounce back towards me. But… I'm not bouncing away. I'm still gonna be here, Cuddy. Waiting for you."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Okay. You must be stoned, or something, but okay."

"Uh, Cam put me back on the Amitriptyline."

She nodded, "good."

He shrugged, "well, I was giving myself hemorrhoids from it… so not *all* good…"

Cuddy laughed, quietly, "you've been more stable since you've been on it. Maybe it's just helping with the pain, but…"

He nodded.

She squeezed his hand, "I'll drop Rachel off tomorrow, I've got a meeting."

He nodded again, "good."

He didn't mention that, in fact, he was on the full anti-depressant dose, not just a low one for treating neuropathic pain.

He really aught to feel upset that he'd just been broken up with.

But he wasn't.

Maybe it was time.

He loved her, and wanted to keep on loving her. But maybe it was time for a break from the intimacy.

No… but the second part…that was it.

She still loved him. Nothing had changed.

There was no disappointment.

She wasn't telling him that she'd never really loved him.

She just needed a break.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He'd still miss her, though. God, he'd miss her.

*

Cameron came back after a while, biting her lip when she saw that Cuddy was gone.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, "yeah. This wasn't exactly unexpected."

"Well, you're stable, and okay to be discharged."

He nodded again, sitting up.

He winced, pulling his hospital robe to the side. There were two small incisions.

He looked at Cameron.

She sighed, shrugging, "you were cold enough that we had to lavage your abdomen with hot water."

He snorted, "wonderful."

She gave him a hand down from the bed, and went to get him something to walk with, since his cane had apparently disappeared between the jogging park and hospital room.

She came back with a forearm crutch, which he had to extend all the way.

"I called Wilson, by the way. He should be here to pick you up fairly soon."

House nodded, "right."

She walked him to the lobby in friendly silence, and stood in front of him, as he sat.

"Um… speaking of Wilson?"

House looked at her.

"Yeah, he's got a thing for you. I told him to act on it. He thinks it's too soon after Amber. I told him you could help him."

Her expression brightened, "that explains a lot…"

*

By the time Wilson and House got to House's apartment, Cuddy was already mostly packed—at least, her clothes and things. The books would obviously need more trips to take out.

House helped her finish packing the remaining things, and Wilson carried the stuff out to Cuddy's car.

Rachel stood in the doorway of her bedroom, biting her lip, as Cuddy left.

"Where's Mom going?"

House sighed, and sat painfully on the floor, "com'ere."

Rachel came over, and sat in his lap, "where is she going?"

"Mom's moving out of the apartment."

"Why? Why is she leaving?"

"Because…"

House sighed, absently braiding Rachel's hair, "you know in the stories mom and dad read to you at night? How the girl and boy live happily every after?"

"Uh-huh."

"It doesn't always work like that."

"Mom doesn't love us?"

"Oh, god no, Rache. She could never not love you. And she still loves me, and I still love her. But sometimes, people get a little tired of each other. People that are more messed up inside than the people in the stories. And they just can't live so close with each other after a while. But they still love each other. They really do love each other. And they definitely love their daughter."

Rachel bit her lip, still looking upset, but nodded.

"Am I going to see Mom?"

House nodded, "of course. You'll still see Mom, and Wilson and me and everybody. Mom is just gonna live in another place. You might live with her some of the time, and with me other times, but I promise, you'll see both of us."

Rachel nodded.

*

Cuddy sighed, as she entered her own house. It felt… empty. And smelled dusty.

She would have to have the doorway widened, because although she was okay on the crutches now, she'd probably have to be back in the wheelchair as she got further along in her pregnancy.

But there'd be time for that.

She set about cleaning a house she had only occasionally stopped by to check on for over two years. Oh, lord. Rachel was going to be three soon.

*

House smiled, as Cuddy's car pulled up in front of the preschool.

She got out, and let Rachel out of the back seat.

Rachel ran up to House, and wrapped her arms around his leg, happily.

House gently pried her off so he could walk, but took her hand.

He led her into the building.

A woman came to greet them, and asked Rachel's name.

"Rachel D. H. Cuddy," she said, with great magnitude.

Cuddy smiled at House, who smirked back.

Rachel turned back to them, "do I *have* to?"

House nodded, "yeah. You don't wanna spend all your time with boring adults, do you?"

She nodded, "I do!"

Cuddy smiled, "don't worry. You'll make friends and you won't even think about being here."

She stuck out her bottom lip, "no."

"Sorry, Rache," said House, lowering himself down so he was at her level, "but you gotta do this, okay?"

She looked upset, "I don't want to!"

"I know. It's okay."

She started to cry.

House sighed, and pulled her into a hug.

"It's okay, Rache. It'll be okay."

She nodded into his shoulder, and he held her for a few moments longer, before letting go.

She stood, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, sniffing, "sorry. Big girls don't cry."

House frowned, "what?"

"That's what Maria said." Maria was one of the other girls who was regularly at the hospital day care center.

House gripped her shoulders, as Cuddy bit her lip, slightly worried. House had been pretty stable recently, but…

"No. She's wrong. Big girls still cry. Boys cry, girls cry, Mom cries and Dad cries."

"Mom says you're afraid to cry."

"Mom's right. But I shouldn't be. My Dad didn't tell me it was okay to cry. But it is, Rache. It's a good thing. Okay? Dad shouldn't be afraid to cry."

She nodded, crying.

He pulled her into another hug, then let go, and ruffled her hair, "have fun today, kiddo."

She nodded.

Cuddy reached down, leaning against a wall, and pulled Rachel up into a hug.

"I'll see you later, Rachel."

Rachel nodded, and sadly allowed herself to be led towards the other kids by the woman running the preschool.

House looked at Cuddy, as Rachel disappeared from sight.

"You told her I was afraid to cry?"

Cuddy nodded, "she asked why you didn't cry when your leg is really bad."

House sighed, nodding.

*

Carla smiled, as House limped in.

"You look depressed today."

House looked at her, and shrugged, "Rachel's first day of preschool."

Carla nodded, "ah."

House got on the table, and put the forearm crutch aside, "Aaron's what… five?"

"Almost six. How far along is she?"

House blinked, "…Cuddy?"

Carla nodded, as House took the brace off his bad leg.

"I didn't know anyone else knew. She's just starting her second trimester. I haven't seen any half-finished omelets in her trash, so I assume morning sickness finally went away. And she hasn't dragged me over for unofficial sex or showed up in my office and started crying, so I guess the hormones are leveling out."

"You don't… *talk* to her about it?"

House shrugged, "I go to her appointments with her. And if she wants to talk about it, I'll listen… but no, not really."

"So… you're just parents of your children."

House nodded, grimacing as Carla started to stretch his bad leg, "yeah, pretty much."


	7. Chapter 7

House sat on the stool, as Cuddy levered herself up onto the exam table, out of the wheelchair.

Her hand, when she was lying down, moved instinctively to rest on her distended abdomen.

He swallowed, watching her. Being Rachel's father had been huge. But he'd known that, given Cuddy's wish of a child, and his wish of Cuddy, it would be conceivable at some point that he would end up participating in the raising of a child.

But that someone would actually *consent* to have his biological spawn was mindboggling.

Who the hell would want to raise anything even close to related to *him*?

Especially given what they'd gone through with his tendency to get very unstable very quickly if something poked something he'd been hiding emotions about for a while.

Cuddy looked at him, saw the sort of vaguely lost look in his eyes, and grabbed his hand, "hey. Pregnant woman here. Pay attention."

He smirked a bit, as the technician spread the gel around with the probe.

"Everything looks good… I… wait."

She clicked a button, and moved the probe around some more. Then she frowned.

"Um… there are two heartbeats in there."

She turned the screen so Cuddy and House could see.

House glanced at the screen, then looked at Cuddy.

She looked pale, "I'll… I couldn't carry one… I'm never going to be able to carry twins…"

She started to cry.

House stood, and squeezed her hand, "you'll have a better chance if you don't get all worked up."

"House! Get out!"

He chewed on his lip for a moment, then responded, "no. I'm staying here."

She threw the box of tissues at him, "out!"

The technician looked slightly alarmed, "Sir, maybe you should leave…"

House shook his head, and gripped both of Cuddy's hands, despite her attempts to pull them away.

"Look at me, Cuddy," he said, quietly, then mentally kicked himself, because she was looking at him. Rather, glaring daggers at him.

He took a deep breath, and started to talk.

"You are gonna carry these kids, Cuddy. You're gonna carry. You're going to take leave, and stay in bed if you have to. Because this is what you've wanted for so long. Cuddy, you're gonna have a baby. You're gonna have twins. Three kids, Cuddy. Three kids."

"Let go of me."

"You're gonna calm down. You're gonna calm down and stop freaking out, and you're gonna carry these kids, Cuddy. You… remember when you made me give my team performance reviews? And I gave you one as well? 'What you want, you run away from. What you need, you don't have a clue. What you've accomplished makes you proud, but you're still miserable.'?

"You want to carry these babies, Cuddy. You know what you need—you've been trying to get it your whole life. You need to feel more than proud of what you've accomplished. You need what you've accomplished to make you happy. When you look at Rachel, when you hold her, tuck her in to bed… you're not miserable, are you? It's a biological imperative to want to have children, Lisa. To want to have a family. It's something we are built to long for."

She closed her eyes, as tears ran out of the corners of them.

"Just because I want it doesn't change the fact that I've miscarried every time I've been pregnant."

"And just because you've miscarried doesn't mean you'll always do so."

"You called me Lisa."

"Would you rather I called you Frank?"

She blinked at him.

Then her mouth twitched, and curved up into a slight smile, even as she continued to cry.

She pulled on his hands, until he was leaning over her.

Then she wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close to herself.

"You're miserable too," she whispered, into his ear.

He shook his head, "not anymore."

She laughed, quietly, "yes you are."

"Yes, I am," he agreed, straightening, as she let go, "but I'm a whole lot less miserable than I used to be."

She nodded, sighing with exhaustion, "I'm glad."

*

House smiled, as Rachel laid her hands on Cuddy's belly, feeling the twins moving around inside.

Cuddy didn't want to know the sexes of the babies. House was fairly sure she was trying to keep from getting attached to the babies in case she did miscarry.

He… doesn't particularly have a problem with it, although if she keeps doing it after the twins are born…

He remembers reading a book about the tremendously high infant and child mortality rates in Brazil. Women would refuse to get attached to their children until they were around five years old because of the entirely too high likelihood that they would die. Dead babies were celebrated, sent to heaven to watch out for the mothers and be waiting when the mother died.

Of course, he read the damned book because of some morbid kind of fascination about people with even suckier childhoods than his own. But after about the age of five, the affection would be there and very strong. So after reading it, he wasn't entirely sure that that was more screwed up than a father hating their child for the child's entire life.

He looked at Cuddy, who was smiling at Rachel, at least.

Maybe it would have been better if Cuddy could have adopted again.

But… he couldn't deny that watching Cuddy grow, watching the fetuses on the ultrasound get more and more human… it did make him feel a little something.

So he was pretty sure the twins wouldn't be getting any reactive attachment disorders. If a cold bastard like him couldn't help feeling something, just watching from afar, he seriously doubted that Cuddy could avoid getting attached to babies that were growing inside her.

*

He was standing outside Cuddy's front door, waiting to pick Rachel up, when he heard a cry from inside—Rachel's voice.

He turned the knob, it was unlocked.

"Cuddy?"

"Dad!"

Rachel ran towards him, crying, "Mom fell and screamed and now she's jerking!"

House rushed towards where Rachel pointed.

Cuddy was on the floor of the kitchen, obviously seizing. The "scream" had probably been the start of the seizure, contraction of the diaphragm and all the other muscles, in the tonic phase of the seizure. He hoped.

He knelt, and turned her on her left side, and told Rachel to get the phone.

She did, and handed it to him, sobbing.

House called 911, and made sure Cuddy was breathing and had a pulse. He told Rachel to leave the room, but she wouldn't budge.

"Rache," he said, "you're not gonna want to remember this. Okay? Go to the next room."

Rachel shook her head.

House sighed, then nodded, "come here."

Rachel did, clinging to his arm.

He gently stroked her cheek, and sighed, as she asked, "what's wrong with Mom?"

"Mom's having a seizure. Your brain, in here, in your head, works with electricity, like the lamp on the table next to the couch in the apartment does, okay?"

She nodded.

"Well, remember when we put a bulb that couldn't handle the current in?"

She nodded, "it went pop."

"This is like that. There's too much electricity in Mom's brain, so it isn't working right. But Mom's brain will work again as soon as it uses up the extra electricity, not like the light bulb. She'll be really tired, and won't know what's going on, and might move around and get upset, but it'll wear off, and she'll be okay."

Rachel nodded, and kept clinging to his arm.

Cuddy finished off the seizure before the ambulance got there.

She started breathing in loud, shaking gasps, and Rachel's grip tightened on House's arm.

House pulled her in for a hug, holding her close, as he watched Cuddy continue to breathe.

"It's okay, Rache. It's gonna be okay. Mom's gonna be okay."

Rachel nodded into his shoulder, as Cuddy's breaths faded.

She was still breathing, just less loudly.

The paramedics got there, and lifted Cuddy onto a stretcher.

House gripped Rachel's hand, and led her out to the ambulance.

They sat along the edge of the ambulance wall, as the paramedics started fluids and made sure Cuddy was stable.

House took Rachel aside, as Cuddy was transferred onto a bed in the emergency room.

He knelt in front of her, and gently gripped her shoulders.

"Listen, Rache. Mom is gonna be fine. But we need to know how-come there was too much electricity, okay?"

Rachel nodded, sniffing.

"So have you noticed anything weird about how Mom was moving, or feeling? Did she talk funny? Did she look like she was going to fall after she got up?"

Rachel nodded.

"She did? She looked like she was going to fall after she got up?"

Rachel nodded, "uh-huh. And she said she hurt."

"Did she say where? And when was the first time she said that?"

"She said it hurt when she walked. She didn't say where. She said it a week ago."

House nodded, "anything else, Rache? Did she bleed anywhere?"

Rachel chewed on her lip, "she got a cut on her finger in the kitchen."

House shook his head, "that's okay. Did she bleed between her legs?"

Rachel shook her head.

"Was there anything else, Rache? Anything at all?"

"Her hands got white."

House frowned.

"White?"

Rachel nodded, "outside."

"Only outside?"

Rachel nodded.

"Was it cold out? Were they red after?"

Rachel nodded.

House sighed, pulling Rachel in close, "she's gonna be okay, kiddo. Mom's gonna be okay."

Raynaud's phenomenon. Pain. Seizure. Heart issues.

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, as he held Rachel close.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Rache?"

"Are you crying?"

House took a shaky breath, and nodded, "yeah."

"Why are you crying? You said Mom is gonna be okay."

"She will be. I'm happy she will be. And I was scared before, that she wouldn't be. And… god, she's gonna be okay. She's gonna be okay."

Rachel nodded, as he let go, "it's good to cry."

House laughed, quietly, and nodded, "yeah, kiddo. It is. Let's go tell the doctors what's wrong with Mom."

She nodded, and he took her hand.

*

"*Lupus*?"

"Or RA. Triggered or made worse by pregnancy. This is probably why you miscarried before."

"Oh… god…"

He curled his hand in hers, as she lay in the hospital bed, Rachel asleep against her side.

"It's good news," he said, shaking his head, "with steroids and rest you should be able to carry as full term as you could otherwise."

She nodded, sighing.

"Thank you, House."

House shook his head, "don't thank me yet, Cuddy. There's bad news too."

She frowned, "what?"

"You're gonna be stuck on bed rest for the next three months."

Cuddy moaned, dropping her head back onto the pillows, "oh, god… kill me now."

House chuckled.

*

House sighed, leaning against the door to his friend's office for a moment.

He pushed off it, and had his hand on the doorknob, when he caught sight of purple scrubs and white sneakers across from black slacks and fancy leather shoes.

He smirked a bit, and limped around through the office and over the balcony, standing mostly behind the tree, as he watched Cameron and Wilson speaking. Then grinned, as Wilson touched Cameron's cheek, and Cameron blushed, smiling.

They kissed, and House smirked.

Cameron looked down at her pager, then at Wilson apologetically.

Wilson shook his head, a smile on his face, and she nodded and left.

House waited a few moments, then opened the door.

Wilson, still grinning sappily at the door, jumped.

"What!"

House snorted, "I saw you kiss her."

Wilson blushed, "Well… yeah. You said you were for it."

House nodded, "got nothing against it."

Wilson smiled.

"Cuddy had a seizure. If I hadn't been there… I mean, Rachel probably would have called 911, she's not an idiot… but Cuddy could have aspirated, or stopped breathing, or gone into cardiac arrest… "

Wilson looked at House, alarmed, "is she okay?"

House nodded, "yeah… something auto-immune, not sure which one yet, triggered by the pregnancy. She'll be fine, if bored—she's gonna be on bed rest."

Wilson nodded, looking relieved, if still a little worried.

*

Cuddy smiled, tiredly, as Wilson entered the hospital room.

"Hey," she said, softly, as he pulled up the chair next to her bed, "I should be released tomorrow."

"From the ICU. Not the hospital."

"I'm trying to get them to let me do the bed rest at home."

"I think everyone at the hospital knows you better than that."

She chuckled.

Wilson got to his feet, wrapping his hand around hers, "he loves you, you know? Even though you two broke it off for now, he's still as in love with you as when you were together."

"I know. But he's not someone it's possible to have a long-term relationship with. At least a romantic one."

"He'd try incredibly hard if you just gave him a chance."

"I don't want him to try to change himself. It'd be a losing battle, anyway. I do love him, Wilson. I love who he is, who he's always been. I just can't love that person all the time. He's not responsible or mature enough, he's not… stable. I'm always the one who's gotta get him out of messes, I'm always the one that's going to end up making sure everything gets done and is okay."

"Well… I guess I can't really argue with you on the stable part. But the part about him not changing? And him being the irresponsible and immature one? I don't know if it's for you or for Rachel or for the babies you're carrying, but he is changing."

She looked at him, tiredly, "Wilson. Please stop it."

Wilson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry. It's just… he's angry at himself for not seeing that you were sick earlier, when it's not at all his fault. He misses you. And I think you're being unfair. But… it's not my decision, and it's not my relationship."

Cuddy blinked at him, "are you actually apologizing for lecturing?"

Wilson shrugged, sheepishly, "I promised House I wouldn't talk to you."

"Fat lot of good making you promise did," commented House, from the doorway.

Wilson turned around, looking at his friend, "I'm sorry."

House shook his head, limping in with Rachel hanging on to his left hand.

Rachel clung to his leg with her free hand, hiding half her face.

Wilson blinked at her, then looked at House, "is she okay?"

"Yeah, just sleepy. Told her she could take a nap with mom."

Cuddy nodded, reaching out as House lifted Rachel up onto the bed.

*

Cuddy finally managed to convince her OB-GYN to let her leave the hospital…but only if she stayed with someone. So she was pretty much stuck in House's apartment again.

*

Nurse Brenda smirked, as she saw House limp into the hospital, holding Rachel's hand.

"House. Got a case for you."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm just taking Rachel for a checkup with her pediatrician, I'm not here to work."

"I know."

She held out a folder to him.

He sighed, lifting Rachel up onto the counter, while he opened the folder.

He raised his eyes, meeting Brenda's.

The folder contained both Cuddy's file, and a page with a betting pool for Cuddy's due date.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Brenda smiled, "I get you her treatment information and cut you in twenty percent, you keep me up to date on how her pregnancy's going and tell me the date if she schedules a c-section."

House smirked, absently helping Rachel with her jacket, "how about the other pool?"

Brenda sighed, "the one about if you'll run when she gives birth?"

He nodded.

"I'm pretty sure I don't need inside information on that one."

He raised his eyebrows, "oh? Figure the answer's a solid yes? I'll be out of the hospital as soon as she falls asleep?"

Brenda shook her head, an almost warm expression on her face, "no. A solid no."

He looked at her for a moment, then snorted, lifting Rachel back off the counter, "you're losing your touch. Five years ago, you would never had looked at me like that."

"Five years ago, my bet would have been in the "within one hour" slot. Five years ago, you weren't being what boils down to a single parent and a caretaker at the same time and managing just fine. Five years ago, you weren't the person you are now."

He gave her a strange look, but took the folder.

"Fifty percent."

"Thirty."

"Forty."

"Thirty-five."

"Done."


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, this is the last chapter I've written. I have a few scenes from a possible epilogue written, but I'm not happy with them. I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing a ninth chapter. If I do, it'll probably be posted here and at LJ around the same time.

* * *

House opened his eyes.

There was a shape looming over his bed.

He turned the light on.

Cuddy, bent almost double, hand on her stomach.

House grabbed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, helping her out to the car.

He hurried back in, and grabbed Rachel, carrying her on his left hip as he staggered slightly on the stairs, then steadied.

"Mmm?" she mumbled, starting to wake up.

"It's okay."

Cuddy's c-section was scheduled for two weeks from now. The babies would be premature, but not severely so.

House drove to the hospital, and as Cuddy was ushered into the elevator up to labor and delivery.

He picked Rachel up, and leaned over the nurse's station.

Brenda looked up at him.

"You might want to change your bet."

She smirked, and nodded.

*

Wilson hurried up the steps, trailed by Cameron.

They rounded the corner, and hurried into the room.

Cuddy was lying on the bed, soundly asleep.

House was sitting on a stool next to her bed, with Rachel standing next to him, as both of them leaned over the two small cribs.

House and Rachel looked up, as Wilson and Cameron entered.

Rachel ran over to Wilson, and wrapped her arms around his leg.

Wilson smiled, meeting House's eyes.

House got to his feet, stiffly, and turned to watch Cuddy for a moment, brushing his fingers along her cheek.

Then he turned back to Cameron and Wilson and Rachel and the twins.

One girl and one boy, perfect and beautiful.

Wilson had a huge, sappy grin on his face.

So did Cameron.

House was smirking a little bit.

He sat back down on his stool.

Wilson couldn't help feeling a bit tickled by the proud expression on his friend's face.

Unlike with Rachel, who he had not felt was his for the first few months, he had absolutely no hesitation in taking responsibility and pride for these two.

"Have you decided on names yet?"

House shook his head, "not yet."

*

House smirked, sitting on the couch with Evan in his lap.

Cuddy was walking around, carrying Sarah on her shoulder—something she was delighted to be able to do. She still had pain, sometimes, in her joints, but the auto-immune flare-up had faded as soon as she delivered.

House made the buzzing sound that Rachel had found so fascinating a few years ago.

Evan reached for House's face, but didn't do much else.

House tilted his head, but shrugged it off, and picked the baby boy up over his shoulder, limping into the kitchen, where Cuddy was attempting to make dinner with Rachel underfoot and Sarah overshoulder.

She finally solved both problems, by telling Rachel to hold Sarah for a while.

Rachel loved Sarah. Not Evan so much, because, according to her, he was boring and loud.

House spent a bit more time with Evan than Sarah, but more because he cried and fussed so much, than any other reason.

He certainly was not like his dad, who, according to his mom, had practically threatened her if Greg had turned out to be a girl.

He was learning more and more, as he was a Dad and sort of a husband, how sucky a job John had done.

Evan started to cry again, and House sighed, checking his diaper, then limping to the fridge and taking out one of the pre-pumped bottles of milk, sticking it in the microwave.

Evan squirmed and fussed, and House hung his cane on the edge of the counter so he could use both hands to hold the writhing baby.

Cuddy looked at him, worried, "you think it's colic?"

House shook his head, "he'd be curling if it was colic, and he doesn't seem to be in pain. I'm gonna take him to Michaels, tomorrow." If anything, Evan just seemed to be easily startled.

Cuddy nodded.

House stuck his head out into the living room, and found that Rachel had zoned out in front of the TV, Sarah in her lap.

Rachel had handled siblings pretty damn well, and the partial loss of attention from House and Cuddy.

It probably helped that she absolutely loved Sarah.

*

House yawned, sitting in the chair in the pediatrician's office, bouncing a delighted Evan up and down on his good knee.

A woman came in, toting two boys and a girl over her shoulder.

The other two people there, a woman who was probably the five-year-old she was watching's grandmother, and another woman, whose ten-year-old was absorbed in a kid's magazine, seemed to be playing their own version of "which of these things doesn't belong".

House really didn't care.

Wilson had said many times that he didn't like himself, but did admire himself.

He'd never disagreed with the fact he didn't like himself, but he had never found much worth admiring, either. Just enough that he could live with himself most of the time.

Now, he had to admit, he was pretty damn proud.

That he'd manage to not screw up Rachel so far, and give Cuddy twins, was something he could definitely be proud of.

Michaels came out, and nodded to House, who got up, slinging his leather baby bag over his shoulder, and gripping his cane.

Evan wailed.

*

"I don't think it's colic. He hasn't been throwing up, or curling, or anything like that. Stool's fine. Hasn't eaten anything weird. Hasn't gotten dropped. Gets startled, but I don't really think he's in pain…"

Michaels nodded, checking the baby boy's eyes, mouth, nose, ears…

"You said he startles easily?"

House nodded.

Michaels clapped.

Evan didn't startle.

Michaels got up, opened and slammed the door, out of Evan's range of vision.

Nothing.

Michaels met House's eyes.

House took a deep breath, and nodded.

Michaels flashed a penlight at Evan.

Evan flinched and started crying.

House closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

House shook his head.

Cuddy smiled, as House came into her office, in the middle of the day, "how did the appointment with Dr. Michaels go?"

"We need to talk."

Cuddy blinked, "now?"

House nodded, sitting down with Evan on his shoulder.

"He's deaf. Evan."

Cuddy paled, and swallowed, eyes filling with tears.

She'd been unusually susceptible to tears since a few weeks after she'd given birth. But House didn't blame her for them now.

*

Kutner tilted his head a bit, blinking.

Taub and Thirteen soon followed suit.

There was a gold band around House's left ring finger.

But he wasn't whistling, singing, clean-shaven, or decently dressed, so he probably hadn't gotten laid…

"Did Cuddy decide to marry you for real?" asked Thirteen, finally, as House finished writing on the board.

House shook his head, not turning to look at them, "nope."

"Did you ask her to?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to?"

"Nope?"

"Why are you wearing a ring?"

"Nope."

Foreman lowered his newspaper with a sigh, "one of the twins is Deaf."

House turned around, glaring at foreman, "who told you? One of the nurses?"

"No, Michaels. He called me in for a neurological consult."

The kids were looking at House, sympathy—or pity, it was hard to tell—evident on their faces.

"What are you going to do?" asked Taub, "I've got a favor I can call in with one of the best surgeons for an implant…"

"The deafness is neurological, hearing aids and implants wouldn't help," supplied Foreman.

"Cuddy wasn't sure she'd want to get an implant even if it would be helpful," said House, tiredly, "figured it should be his decision when he's old enough. But then the tests came back, and it was a moot point."

"So… why the ring?" asked Taub, confused.

"He wanted Cuddy to know he was still in it for the long run," supplied Kutner, making everyone look at him.

He shrugged, "I was talking to Wilson, earlier."

House rolled his eyes, "Wilson doesn't know what he's talking about." Which was a lie—Kutner was right.

"What caused it? If it was an infection, the damage could heal…" started Thirteen.

House shook his head, growing weary of both the discussion and thinking about the issue, "he was premature. It wasn't caused by an infection, there wasn't any evidence of damage on the scans."

Thirteen looked at the table.

House sighed, "but this patient, here, that I just wrote all these symptoms about? We might be able to help *them*. How about we try concentrating on that for a while."

*

Cuddy sighed, looking up as House entered the apartment.

Sarah was in her arms, asleep.

Rachel was sitting on the floor, holding Evan and making noises at him, as though hoping for a response.

She looked up, as House came in, and he could see she'd been crying.

She got up, carrying Evan over, and handing him up to House.

House hung his cane on a desk, taking Evan in his left arm, and Rachel's hand with his right.

She held tightly to his hand, as he led her over to the couch.

"I don't like people being sick," she said, quietly.

House nodded, and pulled her into a one-armed hug against his side, as he settled Evan into his lap.

Cuddy looked over at him, and met his eyes. Rachel wasn't the only one who'd been crying, it seemed.

House leaned over, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"It's gonna be okay."

"It shouldn't have to be. I should never have tried to carry twins, House. It's because he was premature, isn't it?"

House shook his head, knowing he was taking a risk of her finding out he was lying, but knowing she needed to hear this, "no. It was an infection, after he was born. There was nothing anyone could have done differently."

She looked at him, and started to cry.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Dad?"

He opened his eyes, looking at Rachel, "yeah?"

"Did you 'n Mom get married?"

House blinked, "no."

"How come you're wearing a married ring?"

Cuddy looked at him, wiping her eyes, "what?"

He sighed, and showed her his hand, gently shooing Rachel off the couch.

Cuddy blinked at him, "House, what… I told you… and this doesn't change the fact that…"

He shook his head, "I know. I understand. I just don't agree."

"You can't *make* me want a relationship with you, House."

"I'm legally married to you, Cuddy."

She stared at him, almost fearfully, though she knew it was incredibly unlikely that House would force her to choose between being his lover and losing her children.

He shook his head vehemently, "not what I mean. I'm not trying to force you into anything, I would never do that to you, or the kids. I'm just… I have no intention of ever having a relationship with another woman besides you, Cuddy. I figured it's about time other people knew that."

*

God… sometimes House could be so… *annoying*, thought Cuddy, as she lay in bed—the same bed as his, but only because they'd gotten rid of her bed—, but…

He'd managed to change for her, and for Rachel.

He'd seen both of them through her recovery.

He'd seen them through for four years, now.

And he wanted to see them through for more years to come.

And what he had said tonight, about the ring…

How could a man with so little tact, so little discretion, make her heart flutter like it hadn't since she was a silly girl in college, bored and frustrated with the men, and then meeting someone who could finally keep up with her.

She closed her eyes, in a silent grimace.

*He* had been that man.

He was the only one who had ever made her feel this way.

Sure, men before and after him had tried to take care of her, tried to be her knight in shining armor, made speeches, composed bad poetry.

But the difference was… he meant it.

He wasn't putting on a show for her.

He was just doing what he did.

And saying what he meant.

And what he said and meant and did made her feel like nothing else ever had.

She opened her eyes, turning to look at him.

He was asleep, curled hugging his quilt, facing her on his left side, drooling a bit into his pillow.

Cuddy gently reached, brushing the backs of her fingers along his cheek.

He stirred, a bit, and moved towards her touch, mouth twitching into a semblance of a smile for a moment, before smoothing back out into the calmness of sleep.

Cuddy gently shook his shoulder.

House twitched, and opened his eyes, sleepily.

"Hmm?" he looked over the edge of the bed, expecting to see Rachel scared by bad dreams.

She wasn't there.

He looked back at Cuddy, blinking.

She smiled, a little bit, and touched his cheek again.

He turned away, onto his right side.

She sighed, and laid her hand on his shoulder, "House."

"What?"

She bit her lip briefly, then answered, "you've changed."

He shrugged.

She shook her head, "really, House."

"Apparently not enough," he grouched.

She shook her head, "no, House. You changed. I haven't. You… five years ago, I would have laughed at the thought of even asking you to babysit for five minutes. But you've never been one to run from a challenge. You… you take responsibility in the strangest ways, normally. You get my desk from med school into my office, then you grab my breast. You aren't normal, House. I can't trust you to turn paperwork in on time, but you will kill yourself to save another person's life. Your priorities aren't what people expect. You miss the little things and excel at the big ones. But that's just it, House. You're there for the big things. And you love me and the kids enough to get through the small things."

"…"

"I'm good at the small things. Not so much the big ones. But I think I love you enough to get through them."

He blinked at her, "what are you saying?"

She smiled, sitting up, and taking his hands.

"Gregory House, will you marry me?"

He swallowed.

Then leaned in, and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"No."

She stared at him, blankly, "but…"

"Because I already did. I've just been waiting for you to realize it."

She smiled, a bit, nodding.

He was right.

He had been in for the long haul since the start.

And he had loved her since forever.

The only real change was that he was able to show it.

It was amazing what a difference that made.


End file.
